


Another Victim

by hiiimaugust



Category: Critical Role
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 17:37:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14753336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiiimaugust/pseuds/hiiimaugust
Summary: Caleb encounters Trent's new students





	Another Victim

**Author's Note:**

> My first thought when Liam told Caleb's backstory was that there was no way Caleb and his friends were the only ones Trent groomed. So this crap happened.
> 
> It's ill-formed and idk what I'm doing but whatever.

p>There are three of them, just like his own group, two boys and a girl. By his guess, the boys are nearly of age, the girl younger, no more than fourteen. The boys are brothers, if not fraternal twins. One of the boys claps the girl on the shoulder. “We're supposed to leave this one to you, kid, don't fuck it up.”

The girl nods but Caleb can see her hands are shaking. The boys leave. The girl takes a chair and turns it around backwards, resting her arms on the back. _“They say you went mad.”_ It takes him a few seconds to realize she's speaking perfect Zemnian.

“Common then?” Her Common isn't as heavily accented as his own but he can clearly hear a frightened wobble in her voice.

_”Zemnian is fine.”_

She removes her simple jacket and exposes her arms, covered in thin white scales. _“My mother was a prostitute, living in the Capital. She was Zemnian, like you. These were a gift from my biological father, I assume.”_ The young sorcerer formed an ice spike with her magic and threw it in such a way that it sliced through the ropes holding him. The cold stung. _“ **He** found me when I was five. I was worried he would use me like the men used my mother. This is worse. Go.”_

Caleb frowns. “I don't understand what you mean,” he says in Common.

“I was born Hedwig. Now days, I’m called Tiffany.” Carefully, her speech changes, any trace of her Zemnian accent gone. “Master Ikithon purchased me, Mr. Widogast, for 100 gold. Took my name, my language, all of it. I refuse to torture and kill for him. Hurt me and go.”

Caleb watches her brace herself for a fight.

“Please,” she begs.

He struggles to his feet, legs numb from kneeling. “Are you certain?”

She pulls his arcane focus from the pocket of her dress. “Make it hurt.”

Caleb will never forget the reflection of fire in the girl's light eyes.


End file.
